


Clockwork Love

by alt_er_otp (orphan_account)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe, Children, M/M, rhink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/alt_er_otp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fic that is a crossover between the Rhink fandom and the book 'The Amazing Invention of Hugo Cabret. Here Rhett is 'Rene' and Link is 'Leron'. They are young teenagers (around age 14) that go on adventures in a Paris train station set around the late 1940's to early 50's and they begin to unravel a mystery left by an automaton that Leron's late father had been working on...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clockwork Love

The boy’s blue eyes watched in wonder at the world outside of the walls. Through all the steam and passers-by, he could make out the few familiar faces that were often seen at the train station. Couples dancing as the band played a typical Parisian piece at the café, Mademoiselle Elise giving a cheery ‘hello’ to everyone as she wheeled a cart of flowers to her booth. Monsieur Inspector, the railway officer, keeping a watchful eye over everyone from the balcony, his trusty Doberman pinscher by his side. Madame Beaufort was, as usual, stroking her small, longhaired Dachshund when Monsieur Frank attempted to pet it and it barked viciously at him. The boy chuckled at the commotion and slipped out of the vent in the wall, striding over to the café entrance, seizing his chance. He craftily picked up a croissant from the tray laid out on the front table, and a bottle of milk from the basket next to it, as he walked steadily through and away from the crowd of people. His pale, blue eyes darted back and forth, making sure no one saw him, and he leaned against a pillar catching his breath as soon as he was out of sight.  
Next job was going to be trickier. As he munched on his croissant and took sips from the bottle of milk, he watched carefully over the toymaker’s booth. He watched the old man interact with a young boy of around his age, a boy with dirty-blonde curls and green eyes that shone with excitement as he talked with the old man. The boy seemingly asked a question, and left as the old man replied, and it wasn’t long before the boy’s watching blue eyes noticed he was asleep at his booth.  
Running down metal stairs that clanked with every step and passing gears and cogs of great girth that turned in rhythm to the giant clock, he eventually came to another vent he was able to exit, and find himself right outside the toymaker’s booth. Still fast asleep, the old man sat at his booth with his head bowed, and a clockwork mouse on the desk in front of him. The boy walked over as slow as he could, every step calculated until he summoned the courage to reach over and grasp the mouse. Just as his fingers closed over the toy, the hand of the toy-maker lashed out and grabbed him forcefully, holding on to the boy as if for dear life.  
“Caught you, finally!” The toymaker’s eyes blazed with fury and his arms conveyed surprising strength as he kept a hold of the boy. “You little thief!”  
“I’m not a thief!” The boy cried in fear.  
“Empty your pockets boy! And we’ll see.”  
The boy stared at him with equal fire in his eyes.  
“Monsieur Inspector!” The man shouted.  
The boy’s eyes darted back and forth in fear, and he then reluctantly emptied his pockets. He retrieved a handkerchief and a notebook.  
“Of course.” The man smiled triumphantly as he opened up the handkerchief to reveal small clockwork parts.  
He then flipped through the notebook, silently impressed by the designs and notes taken down by the boy regarding various pieces of machinery and how to fix them. But his eyes widened as he came to more comprehensive pages, and found the designs and sketches drawn up to fix and put together one particular piece of machinery.  
“Where did you get this?” He angrily whispered to the boy.  
“It’s mine.”  
“Don’t lie to me boy you’re already in enough trouble!”  
“It’s mine, I swear! My father was a clockmaker and he taught me everything I know!”  
The old man studied the boy and squinted as he thought of what to do.  
“A thief and a liar, get out of here.”  
“Give me my notebook!” The boy screamed as his eyes filled with tears and he attempted to grab at it.  
“It is not yours anymore, it is mine and I’ll do what I want with it!” The old man yelled back.  
The boy became quiet but did not move. He sat outside the toy booth until the time came for the old man to close up shop and go home, and the boy gathered up the courage to approach him again.  
“Please can I have my notebook?”  
“No. I will go home and burn this notebook. And maybe that will teach you not to steal.”  
The boy looked heatedly at him, and still did not move. Then as the toymaker moved to make his way home, the boy followed.  
He followed him through cobbled streets and dark alleyways lit only by lamplight, until the old man made his way into a set of apartments. The windows did not have the curtains drawn and let out warm light from the rooms within making it easy to watch from outside. After enough watching the boy saw the toymaker enter a room and greet an old woman. The room next to that was also brightly lit, with the boy from before sitting at a desk. The boy outside knew he needed someway to get his notebook back and so threw a stone at the window hoping to get the other boy’s attention. The blonde boy turned and looked out at him questioningly. The boy’s pale blue eyes pleaded with him and motioned for him to come down. The boy looked worried at first, then decidedly turned away from the window.  
A few minutes later the front door to the apartments opened up and the tall, blonde boy crept out. He kept looking frantically up at the window.  
“Who are you?” He asked the dark-haired boy who stood there so indignantly in the snowy, winter air in his thin woollen sweater and tweed jacket.  
“That doesn’t matter. Your grandfather stole my notebook, and I need it back.”  
“Papa Georges isn’t my grandfather and he isn’t a thief. You are, so go away.”  
“No I’m not, and you don’t understand. I need it, it’s very important to me. He said he’s going to burn it!” The boy’s voice raised as his anxiety grew.  
“Why do you need it so badly?” The boy’s eyes squinted with interest.  
The other boy stayed silent, his icy, blue eyes considering the boy in front of him.  
“Is it a secret?” The blonde boy’s eyebrows lifted with delight. “Tell me.”  
“I can’t. I just need it!”  
“Sssshhh! Okay, okay, I’ll make sure he doesn’t burn it. Now go.” The boy shooed him away, and knowing that was the best he could get, the dark-haired boy turned and ran back to the train station.  
He ran all the way through the inner tunnels in the walls and up a large amount of stairs and ladders to get to a small room hidden behind the clock tower.  
It was now dark with night and the boy flopped into a chair beside a table, upon it, a mechanical man with the torso unsheathed displaying a mess of cogs and metal parts. The silver of the man gleamed in the moonlight and the boys eyes filled with tears as he remembered what it meant to him.  
Not too long ago the boy was a happy child living with his father in their small house. They were not rich, his father had to work two jobs as a mechanic in order to sustain them both, but they loved each other despite both missing the boy’s late mother dearly. The boy’s father did indeed teach him all about the workings of clockwork and how to fix things, and the boy eagerly learned. One day, his father brought home a mechanical man from the museum he worked at, rusted and old, and as they gazed upon it made the vow they would restore the ‘automaton’ to its original state. His father worked on it with him whenever he could, and the boys blue eyes spilled wonder and enchantment at every new obstacle and mystery that they came upon in fixing it.  
Until the dreaded day that the boy’s father became the victim of a terrible fire in the museum, and left the poor boy all alone in the world. His drunken Uncle Claude came to deliver the terrible news, in a crass and unsympathetic way, demanding he pack his things and follow him. He brought him to the room behind the tower clock in the railway station, and taught him how to keep the clocks running, claiming he need never go to school again, and how lucky he was, as anyone else would’ve sent him to the orphanage.  
The boy knew this was true, as he had seen with his own eyes boys being caught in the railway station trying to steal and being caught by the Railway Inspector. They were inevitably sent to the orphanage and he shuddered at the thought of ever being sent to such a place.  
So when his Uncle went missing he kept the clocks in the station running, including the large tower clock that stood proudly above the rest of the city, everyone still under the impression that it was Claude. He was inconspicuous whenever he did come out of the walls for food, and when he was alone he tinkered away and worked on the automaton, his only remaining link to his father. This was his way of life now, and he accepted it in full defeat.

…

The next morning, the boy went straight to the toy booth and met the toymaker almost about to open up his booth. The old man turned to him slowly and studied him.  
He mustered up the courage to utter a few words: “I need my notebook.”  
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief that he placed in the boy’s hand. The handkerchief had dust emanating from the folds, and as the boy tentatively opened it up he discovered its contents were the burnt ashes of paper.  
His blue eyes filled with pain as tears welled up and his eyebrows knotted, as did his chest. He looked up accusingly at the old man, as he cowered in guilt and anger.  
“Go away.” He whispered to the boy.  
And with that the boy hesitated no further in running as fast as he could away from the old man. He pushed through the crowd and sped on with reckless abandon until he turned the corner and bumped into someone.  
“Oh, s-sorry, I-.” He said blinking at the person and looking back to see if anyone had seen him. It was the boy who was related to the toymaker.  
“I saw.” The boy looked at him concernedly, “Are you crying?”  
The blue-eyed boy tried to avoid his gaze and gave a sharp “No.” as he attempted to push past.  
“Hold still.” The other boy insisted as he stopped him. He pulled out a handkerchief and started to wipe at his eyes gently. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with crying. Peter cried, Syndey Carton, and Heathcliff to. In books, they’re crying all the time-”  
“Thank you.” The boy pushed his hand away, and took the handkerchief. “I can do it.”  
“I need to talk to you. But not here. We’re too…” The blonde haired boy looked around and then back to him, over-exaggeratedly. “Exposed.”  
They walked side by side to a place that the blonde-haired boy called wonderland, which ended up being a bookstore in the station run by Monsieur Labisse. As they walked the dark-haired boy turned to the other and squinted at him.  
“I don’t even know your name.”  
“Nor do I know yours.” He grinned at him.  
“My name’s Leron.” The blue-eyed boy blinked.  
“My name’s René.” The blond-haired boy replied, enthusiastically shaking his hand.  
Once at the book store, they went straight to a quiet corner where they could talk, and René revealed his important news.  
“Papa Georges didn’t burn your book. That was all a trick.”  
Leron’s eyes widened. “Why?”  
“I don’t know. All I know is that him and Mama Jeanne stayed up very late talking about it and seemed very upset.”  
“Why are you helping me?” Leron looked up at him searchingly and doe-eyed.  
René’s eyes lit up. “Because! This might be an adventure, one that’s outside of books at least. Plus, I like you.” He smiled at him cheerily. “In fact, Monsieur Labisse lets me borrow the books from here. I’m sure I could get one for you.”  
“No thank you.” Leron muttered, remembering the sceptical look the man gave him on the way in.  
“Don’t you like books?” René asked incredulously.  
“No, I do! My father used to read with me all the time.”  
There was something sad about the way he said that that made René look at him sadly. He didn’t question it, as children don’t quite have the ability to understand emotions as well as adults, all he knew was he had to be supportive. He motioned for him to come closer, and they flicked through a volume of ‘David Copperfield’ together.

…

Leron stood in front of the counter at the toy booth with a hard stare. The toy-maker looked up and in a gruff voice asked:  
‘What is it?”  
“I want my notebook.”  
The toymaker contemplated for a moment, and then pulled out and placed a broken toy mouse on the counter. It was the toy mouse that Leron had tried to steal the day his notebook was taken, and he remembered it had smashed on the ground after being knocked over in all the fuss.  
“Fix it.” The toymaker demanded, also placing on the counter a tin of tools.  
Leron reached over tentatively and picked up the pieces. He was feeling uneasy with being watched, and didn’t understand where the toymaker was going with this. But he did as he was told and began tinkering at the mouse, mending the wheels and cogs and securing the mouse back together again, going faster and faster as he grew more confident with his work.  
In about half an hour, the put down the mouse, and the toymaker inserted a key into its position, winding it up. The mouse immediately began to scurry around in circles, and a mechanism on the bottom lifted the mouse up every so often, allowing the illusion that the mouse was looking up at the person.  
“Very impressive.” The toymaker admitted. “You want your notebook back then you’re going to have to work for it. I’ll decide when you have earned back all the money for every part you have stolen. Then maybe I’ll think about giving it back.”  
Leron looked annoyed but nodded curtly. At least there was a chance he’d have it back, by working. So he agreed to coming every day, and working as long as he could until the man would eventually give him his notebook.

…

It had been a few days now since this agreement, and Leron admitted it was almost nice to be working in an environment that was his passion, but also not so isolated. Despite the toymakers grumpy demeanour, he softened slowly and even showed Leron how to do a couple of card tricks as his blue eyes sparked with amusement. It was when him and René were at the book store again, that he garnered another piece of information about Georges, through their chatter.  
“Which is your favourite?” René asked him as they looked up at the shelves of fiction in awe.  
Leron looked at the author names and after finding the one he was looking for, pointed: “Robin Hood. I saw that movie, the one with Douglas Fairbanks. Did you see that?”  
“I’ve never seen a movie.” René muttered. He hated admitting to not knowing about something.  
“Never? Why?”  
“Papa Georges and Mama Jeanne are very strict about it. They never let me. I don’t have the faintest clue why, they seem alright with a lot of other things.”  
“I used to go to the movies all the time with my father. It was our favourite thing to do. When we were at the movies, we didn’t miss my mother so much.” Again the sadness in his voice.  
This time René had to ask.  
“Is your father dead Leron?”  
He dipped his head and blinked back tears, and didn’t say anything. So René did something he didn’t usually do, and slipped his hand into Leron’s, giving it a soft squeeze. Leron looked up into his green-grey eyes and felt a warmth in his stomach that he had not felt in a long while.  
“René?”  
“Yes?”  
“Do you want to go on an adventure?”  
René’s eyes sparkled more than ever, as a smile spread across his face.

…

The two boys ran along the cobbled, snow-edged streets until they came to the movie theatre. Above in great lights was written, ‘Le Cinema’ and below that ‘Le festival du film muet’ making René’s heart jump with anticipation. At first René was about to step in when Leron grabbed his arm and pulled him into the side street, leading him to the back door of the theatre. The door was obviously locked, but Leron was prepared as he took out tools from his pocket and began working at the lock on the door. René looked back and forth down the street keeping watch.  
“We could get into big trouble!” he whispered in a panicked voice.  
“That’s how you know it’s an adventure.” Leron’s blue eyes sparkled at him, and winked. René felt his heart flutter at that, and then even more as Leron grasped his hand and led him inside.  
They scurried along the corridors and slipped into the screening as quietly as possible, finding the nearest couple of seats and giggling uncontrollably at their cunning.  
René was blown away by the moving pictures he saw in front of his own eyes. His mouth was agape as the actor Charley Chase almost fell from a 12 storey building, as he dangled from the hands of a clock. Leron too enjoyed this, but he couldn’t help looking over to René and enjoying that sight even more. He melted into the green eyes that flickered across the screen, and traced the curve of his nose and lips with as much detail as if he were drawing up the designs for a new machine. Charley once again almost slipped on the window ledge, and René’s hand shot out to grab Leron’s arm in shock, sending a bolt of lightning through him.  
After the movie was over, they snuck back out of the theatre the way they had come, Leron even fixing the lock he had broken. They walked back to the train station feeling elated about their adventure, Leron telling René stories of when his father had taken him to the movies and the first ever movie his father had watched.  
“He said there was rocket, and it flew right into the eye of the man in the moon. Right into it! He said it was like seeing his dreams in the middle of the day.”  
“I can’t imagine why Papa Georges doesn’t let me see them. Movies are amazing! I bet my parents would’ve let me.”  
Leron looked at René, who looked the same way Leron felt when he thought of his father. So he dared to ask:  
“What happened to them?”  
“They died when I was a baby. Papa Georges and Mama Jeanne are my godparents, and they took me in. They are very nice about most everything, except movies.”  
Leron was saddened by this, but also comforted by the fact that he was not alone, that there was finally someone who could understand how he felt.  
“Leron?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Where do you live?”  
They were now entering the station and Leron was only half-listening to René, due to the fact that he needed to keep a watchful eye out for the station inspector. His head darted to and from every angle, and before long his gaze locked on the approaching inspector in the far distance amongst the crowd.  
“Act natural.” He whispered urgently to René.  
René looked at him confusedly.  
“How was I acting until now?” Evidently not understanding what was going on.  
Leron became more and more panicked as they drew nearer and nearer to the inspector, and in haste he grabbed the beret sitting atop René’s blonde head, and pushed it down on his own. They walked as casually as they could, passing the inspector until a stern voice boomed out from behind.  
“You two! Stop where you are!”  
They stopped in their tracks, and turned slowly to see the unyielding expression of the station inspector, all the while Leron praying as hard as he could.  
“Come here.”  
They walked over and immediately René chimed in, fast to catch on: “Yes, Monsieur Inspector?”  
“What are you two doing wandering about the station?”  
“I work at my godfather’s toy booth! You must’ve seen me there at least a couple times. I was just showing my cousin about,” he gestured to Leron who was looking increasingly anxious, making the inspector increasingly suspicious.  
“Don’t mind him.” René quickly interjected. Then he leaned in close to the inspector, “He’s a simpleton really. Doltish.’  
Leron looked narked for a second at the insults, but quickly went blank-faced as the inspector’s eyes roved over him.  
‘Alright. Well just make sure you remember, the station is for getting on trains and getting off them. Or if you work in a shop. Its not a playground.”  
“Yes Monsieur.” They both chimed, grinning up at him.  
He walked away slowly, still suspicious of them, but as soon as he was further away they ran for it. They stopped as soon a she was out of sight, and René didn’t hesitate to ask the question he’d been dying to ask for a while now.  
“Where do you live Leron? You’ve seen where I live, can’t I come and see your house now?” He always wanted to know these details first, so he could make arrangement s to sleep over. There was nothing René liked to do more than sleep over at other’s houses, and he liked Leron the most out of everyone.  
Leron bit his lip. “I’m sorry but you can’t.”  
René looked annoyed. “Why?”  
“You just can’t. Anyway, I have to go now!” He turned and started walking rapidly away through he crowd of people that had just emerged from a train that had pulled into the station. Leron was a little smaller and skinnier than René and so found it easier to squeeze in between people and move forward.  
But René did not give up.  
“Leron get back here! That’s not fair! Why must you always keep things from me?”  
“Just go home René!” He shouted back.  
Rene tried to push past a gentleman, but the man was incredibly large, and he was pushed back so hard he fell to the ground. He was immersed by prods and kicks as the large crowd paid no heed to his body, and instead trod on his hands and feet, making it near impossible for him to get up.  
“Leron!” He screamed, terrified all of sudden.  
Leron’s head snapped back at the sudden terror in his voice, and as he couldn’t see René he began to make his way back in order to find him. It didn’t take long to discover him, and with a heave he managed to pull him to his feet and drag him along out of the crowd.  
Leron didn’t feel ready or safe enough to show René his home, but he gave in. He was bound to find out sooner or later, and he did trust him. In fact, after his father, he trusted him more than anyone in the world.  
He opened up the vent on the side of the wall, and after closing it behind him, led René through the winding shafts and metallic staircases until he came to the little room beneath the clock.  
René had remain wordless up until this point, in shock, and when he saw the little bed and chair in this room with massive cogs and wheels turning in the ceiling, he was even more speechless.  
“I knew you would hate it.” Leron sighed sadly. “I know it’s a terrible place to live, and that it’s wrong. That’s why I didn’t want to show you.”  
“Are you kidding me?” René mustered, “I’ve never seen something so magical! You live in the clock tower! That’s incredible!”  
Leron smiled widely at his reaction, happy that René was impressed. He decided to show him his most prozed possession, to further incite his feelings, and pulled off the cotton blanket that covered the silver automaton.  
Just as Leron had hoped, René’s eyes widened in amazement as he stared at the beautiful machine sat at the desk. In its hand was a pen, as if the automaton was about to write, and the inner workings of the instrument was clearly visible through the metal cage of its torso. René’s fingers traced the metal and gears, feeling excited by the sense of mystery and wonderment he got from observing such a contraption, despite not knowing what it was or what it could do. After scrutinizing the mechanism for some time, he finally came across the heart-shaped lock located at the top of the automaton’s back, and gasped.  
“What is it?” Leron asked, concernedly.  
Without saying anything, René reached into the top of his shirt, and pulled out a pendant that hung around his neck. It was a key, with a heart-shaped cut to it. Leron then gasped too.  
“I’ve finished fixing the machine, just as my father wanted, but I could never get it to work! Because I needed…”  
“What will happen when we wind him up?” René asked a little fearfully.  
“I don’t know.” Leron whispered.  
René fit the key into the hole, and turned the lock as far as it would go. He then wound the key above as far as that would go, and turned to stand in front of the desk with Leron. He slipped his hand into his, and waited.  
The cogs made a whirring sound, and began to turn. Because of the exposed nature of the inside, it was fascinating to watch the wheels turn incidentally, and all the parts moving in tandem with one another. The automaton then lifted its hand, making them both jump a little, and placed the pen in the ink in a robotic fashion. Once dipped, it placed the pen over the paper, made a little line, then another, then another until…  
It stopped.  
Leron tried to hold himself together, but he couldn’t. The tears overflowed in his blue eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks in sorrow. He walked over to his worktable and mumbled something about ‘idiot’ and ‘think I could fix it’ and in a fit of passion flung everything from the table and sat in the armchair, sobbing uncontrollably.  
René was distressed to see him in this state, and so knelt beside him and attempted to comfort him.  
“It doesn’t have to be like this. You can fix it- “  
“You don’t understand.” He said, his voice small and child-like and broken with crying, “I thought, that if I could fix it, I wouldn’t be so alone.”  
René placed his hand on his arm, and just as he did there came a clicking and whirring sound from behind. His head snapped back in time to see the automaton working again, and he jostled Leron.  
“Leron! It’s not done! It’s not done!”  
They both ran over to see, and sure enough the automaton worked away on the page in front of it, making small lines and dashes all over the page.  
“It’s not writing. It’s drawing!” Leron said excitedly.


End file.
